Sometimes when Marjorie was miraculously good, she got a penny for it, and once when she got an entire sixpence, she recognized that it was wealth. This wealth brought joy to her heart. Why? Because she could spend it on somebody else! We who know Marjorie would know that without being told it. I am sorry--often sorry, often grieved--that I was not there and looking over her shoulder when she was writing down her valued penny rewards: I would have said, “Save that scrap of manuscript, dear; make a will, and leave it to your posterity, to save them from want when penury shall threaten them; a day will come when it will be worth a thousand guineas, and a later day will come when it will be worth five thousand; here you are, rejoicing in copper farthings, and don’t know that your magic pen is showering gold coin all over the paper.” But I was not there to say it; those who were there did not think to say it; and so there is not a line of that quaint precious cacography in existence to-day. I have adored Marjorie for six-and-thirty years; I have adored her in detail, I have adored the whole of her; but above all other details--just a little above all other details--I have adored her because she detested that odious and confusing and unvanquishable and unlearnable and shameless invention, the multiplication table: “I am now going to tell you the horible and wretched plaege [plague] that my multiplication gives me you can’t conceive it the most Devilish thing is 8 times 8 & 7 times 7 it is what nature itself cant endure.” I stand reverently uncovered in the presence of that holy verdict. Here is that person again whom I so dislike--and for no reason at all except that my Marjorie doesn’t like her: “Miss Potune is very fat she pretends to be very learned she says she saw a stone that dropt from the skies, but she is a good christian.” Of course, stones have fallen from the skies, but I don’t believe this “horid fat Simpliton” had ever seen one that had done it; but even if she had, it was none of her business, and she could have been better employed than in going around exaggerating it and carrying on about it and trying to make trouble with a little child that had never done _her_ any harm. “... The Birds do chirp the Lambs do leap and Nature is clothed with the garments of green yellow, and white, purple, and red. “... There is a book that is called the Newgate Calender that contains all the Murders: all the Murders did I say, nay all Thefts & Forgeries that ever were committed & fills me with horror & consternation.” Marjorie is a diligent little student, and her education is always storming along and making great time and lots of noise: “Isabella this morning taught me some French words one of which is bon suar the interpretation is good morning.”